Hazing
by vcg73
Summary: It's a new school year, and unfortunately for Kurt some things have only gotten worse.


Title: **Hazing**  
Category: TV Shows » Glee  
Author: vcg73  
Language: English, Rating: Rated: K+  
Genre: Friendship/General  
Published: 08-08-10, Updated: 08-08-10  
Chapters: 1, Words: 3,635

**Chapter 1: Chapter 1**

Makes a quick reference to my earlier story "Tears", wherein Kurt was the one to find Rachel after her egging by V.A. in "Funk"

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"Rachel."

Rachel Berry's confident stride toward the parking lot of McKinley High School faltered, and then stopped. She looked around, not seeing anyone, and shrugged. It must have been her imagination.

"_Rachel_!"

Okay, this time she had definitely heard it; someone sharply hissing her name. Where had it come from? Most of the students and faculty had already departed, leaving only the athletes staying for various practices and a few creative artists like herself who had the dedication and discipline needed to put in extra hours practicing their craft after school.

"Hello?" she called tentatively, still not seeing anyone.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when a pale hand suddenly popped into sight from the dumpster at the edge of the parking lot and waved, then made a beckoning motion. As she moved closer, Rachel could just make out a shock of disheveled brown hair and two blue eyes peeking above the rim.

"Kurt? Is that you?"

Rachel sighed. Obviously, the bullies had already started their campaign to make her friend's Junior year every bit as miserable as the Sophomore experience had been. Rachel had thankfully never experienced a dumpster dive; that honor seemed reserved for male 'losers', but she was well aware that Kurt had been chucked in with the garbage dozens of times last year. Often enough that he had become adept at bracing himself and just swinging back over the side in one well-practiced move.

So, why wasn't he doing that now?

"Oh, my gosh, are you hurt?" she asked, breaking into a run. "Let me help y-"

"No!" he interrupted, voice squeaking up on the word, so full of alarm that she actually stopped. "I'm fine! Don't come any closer!"

Rachel frowned, her concern turning to confusion. "Why not? Don't you want to get out of there? Are you _sure _you're not injured?"

"No, honestly, I'm not. I just . . . please, stay back."

In spite of his plea, she strode closer. Kurt yelped, holding up his hand with the palm facing outward in a classic STOP gesture, his eyes wide and frantic-looking.

Suddenly, Rachel realized that she could see Kurt's entire arm and both shoulders. Pale, surprisingly muscular and completely _bare_ shoulders. Mouth falling open, she timidly ventured, "Kurt, are . . . are you _naked _in there?"

His face turned about three different shades of red. "They grabbed me coming out of practice and then they pantsed me," he explained grimly. "Like, completely."

"Who?"

"I didn't know them. Some gigantic, steroid-guzzling, testosterone-overloaded Goliath I'd never seen before, and his three, only slightly smaller Hench-Trolls." He sighed when she shook her head. "Bad enough when I actually _knew _the bullies. Now they're apparently telling their friends where to find easy pickings."

She gestured helplessly. "But . . . why this?"

"Unfortunately, the new crop seems a little more creative than the old. I demanded that they let me remove my new jacket before throwing me in the trash, and I swear I saw a light bulb go off in the ring-leader's brain. I had no idea what they were going to do until they started pulling off my sweater."

"Along with everything else," she concluded, coming near enough to pat his forearm in sympathy. She was not tall enough to see over the edge of the dumpster, so Kurt allowed this.

He looked so ashamed that it broke Rachel's heart when he said, "I tried to resist but there was no way I could stop four of them. I guess I'm lucky that all they wanted to do was, and I quote, humiliate the homo. They walked away with all of my clothes, and my messenger bag. My phone, my keys, my wallet, everything was in that bag." He gulped hard, and Rachel could tell that he was trying not to break down. "I didn't know what to do. I couldn't exactly go streaking across the entire campus looking for my stuff. There are still some cars here, so I decided to wait until somebody came along that I could ask for help."

Drawing herself up firmly, remembering the time last year when Kurt had come along and helped _her_ after her humiliation at the egg-throwing hands of Vocal Adrenaline, Rachel tossed her head. "Well, help has arrived and I'll be more than glad to assist you." Rummaging in the school bag at her side, she said, "Luckily, I was taking some things home to be washed tonight, so I'm sure I have something you can borrow for a little while."

"Rachel? While I do appreciate that thought, I've got at least six inches and twenty pounds on you. Could you just go back into the school and get the spare clothes I have in my locker?"

She paused. He was right. The gym shorts she had been planning to offer probably wouldn't afford much coverage, assuming he could even fit into them. "I can't, I'm sorry. It's 5pm and the doors are locked from the outside."

His shoulders slumped. "Right."

An idea struck and Rachel smiled brightly, digging for her phone. "Football practice is probably just getting out! I'll call Finn and have him bring-"

"No!" Kurt interrupted miserably. Thumping his head against his arm, he groaned, "It's bad enough that _you_ know what happened. If you tell Finn while he's in the locker room, he'll probably blurt it out for everybody to hear. I really do not need the entire school to know that four gorillas just peeled me and tossed me in the trash like a bad banana!"

The note of hysteria in his voice convinced Rachel of the fragility of Kurt's current emotional state. Not that she could blame him. She could easily imagine the humiliation he had to be feeling. "Okay, okay, we'll just have to think of something else." Rummaging in her bag again, she asked him, "Could you wear this?"

It was a towel, just a flimsy, not-so-very-clean, pink gym towel, but Kurt grabbed it like a lifeline and moved back a bit to tuck the covering around his waist. "I could wish it was a little bigger," he mumbled after a moment, "but at least it covers enough that I can get out of here. The smell of trash is about to make me puke."

"How _are _you going to get out of there?"

"I can, um," he faltered, making a couple of false starts and then falling back with an unhappy expression. He sighed. "I've never had to do this without shoes before. If I boost myself up and swing partway over the edge, can you try to pull me the rest of the way?"

"Okay." Stepping as close as she could manage, she said, "I'm ready."

He took a firm hold of the edge and jumped, grabbing Rachel's hand as he balanced his midsection on the lip of the dumpster.

She heaved with all her might and Kurt overbalanced, tumbling toward the ground with a startled yelp. Trying to keep him from crashing his skull into the blacktop, Rachel instinctively lunged forward to catch him, only to find herself lying flat on her back, squashed under the weight of a stunned teenage boy.

"Thank you," he gasped, rolling himself to one side. "I didn't think I was ever getting out of there."

"You're welcome. I . . . _eep_!"

At her shocked squeak, Kurt glanced down, then up, then back down again, his entire skin flushing beet red as he realized that the towel was still hanging over the lip of the dumpster.

"Oh, _shit_!" he blurted, scrambling up and making a frantic grab for the covering, just barely catching it as his clumsy attack nearly knocked the item back into the trash. He flung the towel around his hips again, securing it so firmly that he nearly cut off his own circulation. "Rachel. Oh, my God. I'm so sorry. You . . . I . . . it just . . ."

Rachel giggled, unable to stop herself. It was just so embarrassing!

"_God_," Kurt moaned, dropping his face into his hands. "Can I just die now and get it over with?"

She patted him lightly on one shoulder. "Don't feel bad, Kurt, you really couldn't help it. The material got snagged on the edge. Why don't we just go find you some clothes and we'll forget this ever happened? I'll be more than happy to pretend that I never saw your thing . . . that is, _**a**_ thing! I never saw a thing. Anything! Because there wasn't anything to see." Realizing that sounded even worse, insulting even, she tried again. "I mean, not that you don't have anything _worth_ seeing. You totally do! You really have a very nice body. Not that I was checking you out or anything! Because I wasn't!"

Kurt was staring at her with a thoroughly pained expression on his face. "Rachel, please . . . I'm begging you. Stop talking."

Rachel's mouth shut with an audible snap, her own face flushing brightly. "Sorry."

Suddenly noticing that the poor guy was shivering in the cool, late September afternoon, Rachel took off the outer layer of her favorite lemon yellow sweater-set and swung it around Kurt's shoulders. It did not cover much and it looked more than a bit ridiculous on a boy wearing nothing but a pink gym towel, but the sweater was warm with body heat and Rachel could see the gratitude in Kurt's eyes.

"Thank you," he said quietly, sagging back against the dumpster with a weary sigh. "For this, for getting me out of the dumpster . . . for not laughing."

"Laughing," she repeated, touching his cheek. "Never! Kurt, this is horrible. Those boys could have really hurt you. We need to report them to Principal Figgins right away!"

A humorless smile flitted across his face. "Why? So he can give those guys detention or a couple days' suspension and _really _piss them off? So he can apologize and tell me that the school budget just doesn't have enough money for security measures or hiring someone to monitor for violent behavior, and if I didn't draw so much attention to myself, things like this probably wouldn't happen?"

The increasing bitterness in Kurt's tone shocked Rachel. "Is that what he said last year?"

"It's what he always says. It's what everyone says," Kurt sighed, "and somehow everything always comes down to being my fault."

Unused to this defeated attitude from her proud and spirited glee-mate, Rachel impulsively hugged him around the neck. "Don't ever say that! It's not your fault." Pulling her phone back out, she quickly dialed a number. Ignoring Kurt's query as to whom she was calling, she waited for the line to connect and chirped, "Hi, Daddy! Have you left to pick me up yet? Great! Can you stop and grab some of Papa's clothes to bring with you? Kurt, you know, my gay friend from glee-club? He was attacked by a group of prank playing Neanderthals and they stole all of his clothes. They took his bag with his keys in it, too, so he has no way of getting home and I was hoping we could offer him a ride. Thanks, Daddy, I _knew _you'd understand. I love you!"

She clicked off the call and looked at Kurt in triumph. "He'll be here in fifteen minutes."

Making a quarter-hour of small talk with a distinctly uncomfortable and underdressed Kurt Hummel was no easy task. They did not have a great deal to say to each other, even under normal circumstances, so Rachel did what she did best. She monologued. Leading him away from the garbage bin, she coaxed Kurt over to sit on the steps outside the school building, secretly admiring the way he managed to look imperious and uncaring whenever some random person would walk by and give him a curious once-over.

Rachel was just beginning the third phase of her recitation on the career she envisioned for herself once she had made the big time and left Lima far behind, when she saw her fathers' car pulling up. She bounced up to hug the tall, dark-skinned man who emerged from the driver's seat. Kurt remained where he was, hugging his knees in a sudden unconscious show of insecurity. "Hi, Daddy! Thanks for coming. Did you bring the clothes?"

Leroy Berry kissed her on the forehead, then reached back into the car and pulled out a reusable grocery tote. "Right here." Handing the bag over to Kurt, he offered the clearly embarrassed teen a warm smile. "Sorry I couldn't find anything better to carry them in on such short notice. Believe me when I say that I sympathize with how you must be feeling right now. You have somewhere you can go to change, Kurt?"

"I'll just . . . behind my car," he said, holding his towel tightly as he swung Rachel's sweater off his shoulders and handed it back , then hurried across the roughly paved parking lot as quickly as he could manage with no shoes. He disappeared behind a huge black SUV.

"Nice wheels," Leroy commented to his daughter. With a sigh, he looked around. "It makes me feel so depressed to know that things like this are still permitted to happen in a public school. Makes me wonder if we've really made any progress at all. Any idea where those thugs might have tossed your friend's things?"

Rachel shook her head, feeling sad at the depth of understanding for Kurt's troubles that shone in her dad's warm brown eyes. "We haven't had a chance to look. Kurt couldn't and I didn't want to leave him alone."

"I'm glad you stayed with him," he said, giving her a little hug. "I'm sure he appreciated the support. When he comes back, what do you say we take a look around? If this is just a prank, then everything is probably pretty close by. If it was something more serious then we need to report the theft of Kurt's wallet and phone to the police right away."

Rachel was shocked. "The police?"

"That gorgeous vehicle alone is enough to attract thieves, sweet thing, and if this was a genuine mugging, then those other boys now have the keys. Besides, your papa and I haven't spent all this time working with the ACLU just to stand by and do nothing while a hate-crime is committed right here in our daughter's own school."

The words were sobering to Rachel. She had never really thought about the cruel taunts and bullyings that were routinely piled onto Kurt in that light before. But if they were not actual hate-crimes, they were certainly the building blocks. "You're right, but I really hope it was just a prank. There's always a lot of that from new jocks during the first few weeks of school, sort of a ritual to get them in good with their idiot upperclassmen friends. Kurt gets more than his share, not just for being gay but because he's really good at firing sharp, funny comments that their tiny little cro-magnon brains can't understand, other than to assume there had to be an insult in it somewhere."

Her father chuckled. "Sounds like he and Papa would get along."

Just then, Kurt emerged from behind his SUV, tucking the hem of a bottle-green polo shirt into the neat khaki trousers he had been loaned, brown leather loafers completing the ensemble. The clothes were slightly too big for the boy, making him look somewhat like a child playing dress-up, but the relief he felt from being fully dressed once more was palpable. He handed the pink towel back to Rachel and smiled. "Thanks, Rachel, Mr. Berry. I really appreciate this."

"Glad to help," Leroy told him warmly. "Rachel and I were just speculating that your bag and clothes probably aren't too far away if you'd like to have a look around for them. Any idea which way those guys were heading when they took off?"

"I didn't see them, but I would guess that way," he said, pointing toward the open area where student body meetings were held on sunny days. "The gym is just behind it. That's kind of home base for guys like them."

"Like I said, some things never change," he mused, draping an arm around Rachel's shoulder as the three of them started to walk. "Honey, try calling Kurt's cell. Maybe we'll get lucky and we can follow the sound."

Wondering why she hadn't thought of that herself, Rachel whipped out her phone and found Kurt's number. She had all of the Glee kids programmed in. After a moment, she thought she heard the faint sounds of the Beyonce Knowles song "Diva". Casting Kurt a quick scowl for his choice of ring-tone, she said, "I hear it but I can't tell where it's coming from."

"Dial again. I think it came from over . . . oh," Kurt trailed off with a shocked whimper.

The other two followed his gaze up. From the flag-pole, strung neatly along the cord at regular intervals, a pair of green capri pants, a white short-sleeved dress shirt, a blue and green pattened sweater, a jacket and even a pair of shoes. The latter had been secured to the line by their laces. Worst of all, white silk boxers fluttered and snapped in the breeze, showing off the bold block letters that someone had written on them in Sharpie marker: 'Let Your Freak-Flag Fly!' Placed neatly at the base of the flag-pole was Kurt's messenger bag.

"A prank," Rachel said, relief flooding through her as Kurt checked the bag's pockets and found his keys and wallet, contents intact. "It was just a hazing ritual, probably a dare by some of the new football players or wrestlers."

"Well, I didn't think it was an invitation to the prom!" Kurt snapped. Seeing the look on her face, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry, Rachel. I didn't mean . . . it's just, why does it always have to be me who gets harrassed whenever some stupid jock wants to prove he's more manly than everybody else? Can't they just do a circle-jerk and _measure _them or something?"

Leroy cleared his throat. Rachel could tell he was trying not to laugh at the comment, but Kurt's face turned red again as he realized that he had not exactly said a polite thing in front of this man's daughter. Leroy patted his arm. "I hate to admit it, Kurt, but this probably would be seen as just somebody playing a joke if you reported it. Though I do think we should make your teachers and principal aware that things like this are happening, just in case they try anything else."

"They will," Kurt muttered darkly. "How are we going to get my stuff down? The minute people see it they'll know who it belongs to. Besides, my dad paid a lot of money for that jacket. It's a Marc Jacobs original, and I want it back."

"Why don't we just go home for now and meet here early tomorrow morning?" Rachel suggested. "You know Mr Kidney the janitor always puts the flag up an hour before school starts. The jocks played their stupid joke and thankfully nobody got hurt, so don't give them the satisfaction of knowing they got to you, Kurt."

Kurt looked at Rachel's father, a question in his eyes. Seeing the man nod agreement with his daughter, Kurt reluctantly nodded. "I guess I don't have a choice, but if my jacket is ruined by rain or dew, or _any _of this ends up as the headline on Jacob Israel's gossip blog tomorrow, I'm holding you responsible, Rachel."

Hooking her elbow through his, Rachel gave his arm a squeeze. Deliberately trailing a few yards behind her dad as they began to walk back to the parking lot, she whispered, "We'll tell the kids in glee-club what happened. I think it's time all of us "losers" banded together and got a little Gleek revenge on the jocks."

Kurt's tense posture relaxed a little and he flashed her a smile. "Don't tell anyone this Rachel. But sometimes, I really like the way you think."

- THE END -


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